Is it just me?
Or is it a generational thing? As soon as I got pregnant, Mike and I started thinking about names. Boy or girl? We hadn’t a clue. We just knew whatever the sex, we'd need a name.
Some thought we were ahead of the pack when we choose unisex names, although Kim and Dale have suggested a certain laxity, convinced – incorrectly – that we economised.
Our girls were named at their first gasp and hit the breast identified – names penned on pink wristbands.
My grandchildren, their sex no secret, date of arrival perfectly pinpointed, are just “Baby” for days or, in the case of our first grandchild, for weeks - or maybe it just seemed like that.
So that painful business of tossing names around; recalling ex-romances, nasty friends at school, suicides, embittered relatives or business partners, takes place AB – after birth!
I don’t get it – how can you expect a child for nine months and not have that organised!
My girls hoot with laughter at the thought. How, they say, could anyone name a newborn before meeting him or her? How could Mike and I have done that?
It seems to me that if everyone did that, there’d be a sudden increase in names like Ginger, Scarlett, Angel, Beau, Hello Sailor, or maybe Hello Tiger, and Holy Moses. Or if the name rolled off the cuff too early, perhaps a whole new lexicon like Ouch, Hallelujah or Never Again.
When I had Alice in South Africa, a lovely Zulu nurse told me her own name translated to English was “Enough” and it was her Dad that named her! She was the eighth and last-born in her family.
Well done Emily and Tom – and welcome Ashton Fox – our 5th grandchild - that only took ten days!